


Collateral

by rreinhurts



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017), bughead - Fandom
Genre: Angst and Porn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad FP Jones II, Betty Cooper Deserves Better, Betty Cooper Needs a Hug, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Dark Betty Cooper, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Injury Recovery, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Jughead Jones Needs a Hug, Light Angst, Major Character Injury, Mentioned Polly Cooper, Minor Character Death, Minor Cheryl Blossom/Toni Topaz, Murder, My First Smut, Porn with Feelings, Protective Jughead Jones, Sad Betty Cooper, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, Siblings, Smut, bughead - Freeform, dead Toni Topaz, where are the police in this town? Nowhere. They don’t exist.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-03-06 20:51:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18858883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rreinhurts/pseuds/rreinhurts
Summary: col·lat·er·alnoun1. Something pledged as security for repayment of a loan, to be forfeited in the event of a default.Betty Cooper is the center of a national obsession after her sister Polly killed gang member Toni Topaz. Not only does Betty have to deal with the swarming media with only the protection of her boyfriend, Jughead Jones, she also has to deal with Toni's girlfriend, Cheryl Blossom. Cheryl goes on a rampage, determined to ruin Betty's life, but before she can do so, Betty may end hers.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my new baby I’ve been brewing for the past two months, with intent of may be someday publishing or at the very least getting my own copy bound. Already have about 3.5/5 chapters done. My goal is the finish by the end of the summer hiatus. Anyway, come find me ;)
> 
> Ig: rreinhurts  
> Tumblr: lordofperogis  
> Twitter: rreinhurts
> 
> Also, I’m meeting Cole and my ibf in two weeks, that’s crazy. Okay, happy reading.

Toni was dead. And no one knew who had done it. There were numerous suspects, of course. The ghoulies were, obviously, one of them, Toni being an opposing gang. There was Dilton Doiley. The two had apparently been caught up in some sort of drug deal, and something could have went wrong. The last suspect was Polly Cooper. The main reason was because she left Riverdale immediately following her death.

 

Cheryl, the devoted girlfriend that she was, rallied for her. She started search parties for both Toni and her killer, put up flyers, and honestly did just as much, if not more, for Toni’s case than the actual police did. 

 

And then it came out, all at once. It was Polly Cooper. She had done it. There really was no motive. It was more of an accident in fact. She had been on her motorcycle, Toni, and Polly in a car. Polly had just finished getting undoubtedly drunk, mourning the death of her boyfriend, and father of her children, Jason Blossom. She swerved off of the road, and Toni was right there. 

 

In her drunken haze, she took the body and threw it into her backseat. She took the wrecked motorcycle, and shoved it in her trunk. 

 

They had found the motorcycle about two hours from the small town, in a quaint place named Leroy New York. It was stashed near the football fields, under a mosh pit where aspiring football stars would sneak away to after their games.

 

Two kids had found it. In the way most parents did, they had heard about the missing girl, but hadn’t told their children. They didn’t want to worry them. The children reported their findings back to their parents, and when the parents went to check out the scene, they found the license plate on the bike had matched Toni’s. 

 

The police seized it immediately. They checked it for fingerprints, and in a mere 22 hours, Polly Cooper was dragged out of a bustling Wholefoods in New York City.

 

Hell broke loose for the Coopers. They were tasked with keeping up with two twin babies, something they could barely manage. The media swarmed the house. But it was probably the worst for Betty Cooper. She couldn’t go to school without one of Cheryl’s or Toni’s friends lunging at her, or even the teachers bringing up her murdering sister. It was like she was the center of a bad joke. Her one friend, Ethel Muggs, had completely dislodged herself from the mellodrama. She “didn’t want to associate with someone of the Cooper bloodstream”. 

 

Betty kept herself pented up inside her home. Her parents decided to dodge the bullet, and they left town with the twins for the next month, going to the family’s cabin in Colorado. 

 

Betty was left at home with her brother. Chic had left her alone though, and took full advantage of having no parents. He snuck off to some cheap hotel in Greendale with his boyfriend, Ben. What shocked Betty the most, however, was the fact that both her parents and brother had suggested that her boyfriend, Jughead Jones, come over and stay with her. 

 

The two had just finished a session, and she was laying on his bare chest. It almost distracted her from the clicking cameras and the bustle outside.

 

“What are you thinking about, Betts?” the raven haired boy asked, leaning over and kissing her head lightly. She splayed her head back, kissing him. 

 

“You.” She said, beaming from ear to ear.

 

“How sweet, Betty.” He chuckled.

 

The boy rolled her over, keeping her tightly wound in his arms, as to ask her a question. “So Betty, can we talk? Like, about what happened? Can we ever?”

 

“Juggie, I don’t know what to do, plain and simple. Everyone on the east coast has heard the name “Polly Cooper”, and my last name is Cooper. I don’t know what to do. I’m never going to escape it.” She spoke brokenly, tears starting to flow gently from her eyes. She had cried a lot in the past week.

 

“Well, I could always give you mine?” He tried to hide the smug look brewing on his face. It was always the witty things he said that cheered her up. She swung her leg back over him, and returned to their dazed state. 

 

Little did they know that a little hellstorm named Cheryl Blossom was on the horizon.

 

Sure, Jughead had been friends with Toni, being in the same gang. He always had to compete for time with Cheryl though, who, as he had though just before the young serpent’s death, had single handedly put a wall in the middle of Jughead and Toni’s comradery. 

 

Cheryl loved Toni. With every inch of her body. She gave up the houses, the yachts, the bloodmoney, all to be with her against her mother’s wishes. So when she hadn’t heard from her in three hours, Cheryl went out looking, and when she couldn’t find her, Cheryl dropped off of the grid. No one in the small town knew where she went, but in reality, she barricaded herself in what the Riverdale teens liked to call “the sex bunker”, writing love letters in her own blood and pulling chunks of her red hair out.

 

Cheryl was the first to hear that her bike had been found. 22 hours later, once the body of the young serpent had been found in a remote road in a town consisting of one curved road, Leicester New york, cheryl went full dark, no stars. She had gathered her closest friends, and they went on a crusade. They took the amtrak down to the city, in search of the murdering bitch Polly Cooper herself. 

 

When they got their, Polly was nowhere to be found in the New York police station. She had been being held in the prison for her troubles. As much as Cheryl wanted to infiltrate the prison, her friends talked her out of it. Polly had fucked up her entire life, and Cheryl could not do the same. And her passed twin, Jason, loved Polly, and would have rolled over in his grave just thinking about Cheryl murdering the one he left behind.

 

So the group defeatedly hitchhiked back to Riverdale, before Cheryl had hatched her master plan. 

 

Maybe Cheryl could not ruin Polly’s life, as Jason loved Polly, and it had already been ruined anyway. However, Jason hadn’t loved her genetic counterpart, Betty Cooper. 

 

Cheryl had always had sour feelings towards the Blonde. Since the purebred girl was little, she had shunned Betty. She was, after all, richer, and by her means, conventionally prettier. As the two grew older, however, tensions only grew. Betty had gotten Cheryl suspended for trying to write her own “Burn Book”. Cheryl had never let Betty on the cheerleading team, still referring her to junior varsity, despite the amount of back handsprings the blonde could do.

 

So Cheryl devised her masterplan, writing it on the background of the painting of a lush landscape that Toni had done for her. She was going to ruin Betty Cooper’s life.

 

***

 

The Toni Topaz murders had become a national obsession. A netflix series was in the works. No one was completely sure why the story of a widow with twin babies killing a gang girl was intriguing, yet for some odd reason, it was. Now, although it was a fabulous opportunity for most, giving them jobs reporting, writing, detectives picking brains, it was the worst for Betty Cooper.

 

Of course, she had tried to go to school a few days after Polly had been detained, but to no avail. She was tormented all day. Everyone poked at her, called her names. There was a shrine to Toni on her locker, and when she returned home, her house had been egged. Her parents, and Jughead, had seen that it would be best if she just stayed home for a while.

 

As much as Betty tried to run, she couldn’t. Whenever she opened the news app, Polly or Toni’s or even her own face was on the front page. Whenever she tried to like one of her favorite celebrities posts, she had to wade through messages calling her and Polly horrible things. Sure, maybe Polly and Toni were national obsessions, but so was Betty.

 

The media was horrific. She couldn’t leave the house. Veronica would bring her her groceries, having to fight her way through crowds to reach Betty’s garage door, letting herself in. For hell’s sake, whenever Jughead was spotted crawling out of her annex, he was swarmed. 

 

There were pictures from when Betty was younger that she didn’t even remember taking. People who she thought were her friends or her neighbors saying awful things about her and her family for their 5 minutes of fame. It was as though the entire town had turned on her at once. 

 

So as Polly sat in the old sparky, Betty felt trapped too, but in her own mind, her own home. Except for Betty hadn’t done anything wrong.

 

***

 

It was 4:30 in the afternoon. As much as she and Jughead hated getting out of bed, Jughead (as always) was hungry, and Betty needed something to take her mind off of the flashing and overlapping voices outside. Betty decided that cooking would take her mind off of what was happening.

 

She threw on a shirt and some sweatpants. Normally under these circumstances, it being just her and Jughead, she would walk around in just her underlayers, but seeing the people being outside she better cover up. 

 

Jughead raked through the drawer that she kept his things in. His black skinny jeans lay still discarded on her floor, inside out. He really didn’t want to put them back on.

 

“Hey Betts, where are my good grey sweatpants?” He asked, lifting one of his many “S” t-shirts as he sifted through the drawer. 

 

“Jug, you let me wear them the other day, remember? We haven’t done laundry since my parents left.” she explained, as she combed through her afterglow hair with her fingers. 

 

The boy let out a sigh, tossing his shirt back into the drawer, walking over to her.

 

“Maybe we can do the laundry on our trip downstairs?” He teased.

 

She turned towards him from her place squatted down in front of her vanity. 

 

“You know I can’t take you serious when you’re in your underwear.” She teased back. 

 

He smirked, turning back towards his drawer, to pull out a pair of subpar black ones, before shrugging and throwing them on. He decide to just go shirtless, which was fine with Betty. She didn’t usually get a chance to admire the curves and divots of his body before he went down on her. 

 

He cracked open the door to the bedroom, walking through the white frame. She shuffled by him, sneaking in front. He slowly closed the door as it creaked behind him. As she began to descend the first stair, she looked behind her, grabbing his hand from beside him to pull him along behind her.

 

As the stairs creaked underneath their bare feet, shutters clicked. It was crazy, like a beast that had been sleeping for thousands of years had awoken.

 

She hit the floor, and dropped his hand as she speed walked in front of him, twirling as she made her way to the kitchen. As weak smile graced her face. In turn, as he watched her, his body filled to the brim with content.

 

She slid into the kitchen, and swung the fridge door open, revealing whatever it was that Veronica had purchased for her. The usual Veronica Lodge fix ins, really. Some goat cheese, avocados, and for good measure, three large bottles of wine. She chuckled at her friends vicarious thirst.

 

She grabbed the package of salmon that her best friend had bought her, tossing it onto the counter as Jughead reached into the cabinet under the microwave to find a metal sheet, and then again into the highest cabinet to get the cooking spray. Betty waltzed over to the stove, turning the heat up, as her boyfriend sliced open the plastic packaging.

 

They had set up a rhythm, as Betty walked over to the fridge once more, grabbing soy sauce, lemon juice, and garlic. Jughead went to the cabinet the farthest into the kitchen, and got himself olive oil, brown sugar, salt, and pepper. As he tossed them onto the table, she turned around to reach into the cabinet above the refrigerator, but she was beaten to it by the raven haired boy, as she continued to strain to reach it, jumping up and swatting his hands away.

 

Click. 

 

He held the bowl above her head, dangling it as she pushed off of her toes.

 

She stopped, and looked into his eyes, grabbing his face, and pulling him into an open mouthed kiss.

 

Click. 

 

He surrendered the bowl to his side and she snatched it.

 

“Thanks, Juggie,” She smiled, before strutting back to the granite island in the middle of her quaint kitchen. As he chased her, he slapped her bum, and she turned around to look at him, smiling.

 

She removed the salmon from its plastic casing, picking it up with care as she threw it into the bowl. He poured the fix ins that were set out into the bowl, and she got in there with her hands, mixing the ingredients together, and letting it soak into the fish.

 

He bent down underneath her knees, tapping her with the back of his hand, waiting until she moved. After she went over to the kitchen to wash her hands, he reached into the drawer, grabbing the tinfoil, and reaching into the bowl. He pulled the cutlet out, dropping it onto the foil, and then going over to join her at the sink. 

 

As she snuck back over to her labor of love, pulling the pepper above of it, and cranking it until Jughead had approached her once again.

 

“Betty, slow down, you’re going to poison me!” He laughed, coming behind her.

 

“It’s all part of my master plan, Jughead Jones.” she cackled like a cartoon character.

 

Click

 

He crept up and folded the foil towards itself, creating a seasoned packet of fish, and placed it on the tray. Betty tried to take it to the stove, but as she held it behind her, Jughead snatched it, as he moved towards the fiery inferno. 

 

“Hey!” She yelled out behind him.

 

“Just the protective boyfriend in me.” He joked.

 

He slugged it into the stove, as Betty placed the bowl in the ever growing pile of dirty dishes in the sink. Jughead closed the door of the stove, as Betty danced around the kitchen putting exclusively the perishables back in their rightful drawers.

 

When she had finished her task, Jughead wafted into the living room, collapsing onto the couch, and she grabbed the remote. He grabbed the folded blanket off of the back of the couch, and scooted to the side, allowing room for her to sit next to him.

 

Click

 

She laid down next to him, her messy hair laying on his still bare chest. He laughed from the tickling sensation. She wrapped her arms around him, absorbing into him. 

 

He grabbed the clicker, resting his open palm on her soft hair, and then turned the channel. He flipped through until they decided on watching an old show from when they were little kids. It definitely cheered Betty up. 

 

Throughout the 25 minutes that it was required they wait, they heard the bustle outside, even over the cartoonish voices and cheerful music. 

 

‘What are you thinking about, Betts?” He whispered into her hair, kissing her scalp.

 

Click

 

She took a deep exhale. He knew that whenever she did that, he was about to be hearing the truth.

 

“Jug, I want them to leave. I want to go back to school, or at least you to go back to school. Please. I just want everything to be as normal as possible again. I want to change my name and run away with you. Just get on your bike and leave Riverdale, become Elizabeth Jones.” She exhaled.

 

Tears leaked from her eyes, as he shuffled, sitting up so he could better support her.

 

Click

 

He grabbed her head softly in both of his arms. He cradled her body as she sobbed, reaching around him, trying to get closer to him. He was her safe space. 

 

Click

 

Nothing could account for what she felt. There was sadness of course, pain, humiliation, but most of all dread. She dreaded going back to school, trying to get accepted into NYU, her dream school, with the last name Cooper gracing her application, living the rest of her life, having kids related to Polly, and the other school children finding out.

 

“Betty, It will blow over, and I’ll go back to school when you go back to school, whenever you’re ready. We’ll be okay. As soon as we go to college, I’m going to marry you, and we’ll start a family, move away from this god awful town, this god awful state. We’ll have a family, and it will be perfect.” He tried to reason.

 

Click

 

“But Jughead, it’s not going to blow over. What my sister did will follow me for the rest of my life, you understand that, right?” She roused, sitting up from his grasp as his warm hand trailed down her arm.

 

“Betty, we’re in this together.” He reaffirmed.

 

Click

 

Really, there was not much he could say at this point. It probably wouldn’t get better, not for a while, atleast.

 

She sunk back into him. Gripping his body closer to her. She sobbed, her teardrops dripping onto his bare chest, running towards his abdomen. They sat there, the television droning on.

 

Click

 

Jughead wanted to be there for her, so badly. He wanted to transfer all of her pain to himself. He hated seeing his princess unhappy. It hurt him.

 

He didn’t know what to say to make her feel better. 

 

As much as he tried to make her happier, he couldn’t keep making broken promises to her. He had seen the effects of what broken promises had done to his life, to his family, and he couldn’t put Betty through that. He loved her too much.

 

Click

 

They stayed cuddled up, a comfortable silence falling over them, until the smell of herbs wafted out of the kitchen and the timer went off.

 

Click

 

“Betts, do you want me to got get that?” He asked. In all reality, he didn’t want it to burn, and thought it would be nicer if he asked to get up first.

 

“No. I will.” she sniffed, wiping her runny nose on her shirt collar.

 

As she got up, he too capsized off of the couch, slowly creeping after her. 

 

“Jug, I said I would get it, why did you get up?” she asked, as she reached into a drawer to pull out an oven mit.

 

“Because I want to eat, duh?” he joked, hoping to lift her spirits. He succeeded, seeing a small smile creep onto the edges of her lips as she opened the oven, pulling their delicacy out.

 

Click

 

She clattered it onto the burners above the stovetop, the pan giving out a slight sizzle at the contact. Jughead stepped up, attempting to peel the aluminum foil slow cooker off of their finished dinner, but jumped back in pain when he burnt his fingers on the metal sheet.

 

“Ouch!” he quipped, and to which, Betty let out a faint giggle. 

 

But he kept at it, gently peeling it back piece by piece, flinching at the continued contact, until their dinner was revealed.

 

Click

 

He reached to the cupboards, grabbing the plates, and setting them down on the granite countertops, before he was met with the soft clink that the ceramics contact had procured. 

 

“Hey, Betts, I’m going to run upstairs and grab the dirty laundry, then do you want to eat upstairs?” The young boy asked, trailing his voice as he began to ascend the stairs.

 

“Okay, I’ll be getting everything ready.” She yelled after him.

 

As nonchalant as she tried to portray herself, she was freaking out. She felt her anxieties begin to crush her chest, as she became suddenly aware of the shutters going off around her, and the people murmuring her name.

 

“Oh no.” She said out loud. It was going to be her fourth anxiety attack and possibly her second seizure of the last 48 hours.

 

It was usually about what had happened with Polly. She hated worrying Jughead more than anything else. It frustrated her. She wanted to pull out her own hair at the thought. He had so much to deal with. He was walking the razor's edge with the serpents, with his dad. 

 

Betty pretended to be watching television, but she could see him pull out his rickety old laptop and stress over the assignments that he hadn’t been able to complete, being at home with her. He had been there for most every attack. She knew that it drove him crazy thinking about her being in pain. 

 

And she wasn’t wrong. At night, when she was pressed up against his chest, her blonde hair tracing his skin, the thought of the whole thing drove Jughead crazy.

 

He was naturally a thinker, as his girlfriend. Naturally a philosopher. He was one of those people who levitated above everyone, all the social conceptions that he had been trained to conform too. There was no meaning of life to him. Infact, if Betty hadn’t found him, he wasn’t sure that his life would have any meaning.

 

He didn’t understand.

 

Why did Polly do what she did?

 

Why was Betty dragged into it?

 

Why was the once small, quaint town of Riverdale suddenly a national obsession, with Betty in the middle of it?

 

The whole situation drove him crazy. As far as he was concerned, Betty was like an unrecognized piece of art, one made by an artist who was still alive.

 

She was his treasure, and exclusively that. He wasn’t possessive; he let her hang out with Archie, talk to whoever she felt like, go wherever she wanted. But he was protective, and he didn’t like the people trying to choke her out.

 

Betty was full on freaking out now. She had a plate in her hand, and she was on her way to the stovetop with the intent of dividing the food onto their plates.. She had froze as soon as she began to feel light headed, as she tried to make her way safely to the floor, as her doctor had recommended when she began to feel the onset begin.

 

As her knees folded in on themselves, it become increasingly apparent that it was too late. She collapsed the rest of the way to the floor, her mother’s plate shattering as she hit the hardwood.

 

***

 

Jughead hiked up the stairs, gripping onto the banister of the staircase. He turned around the corner, straight into Betty’s room. He travelled into her bathroom, opening up the large hamper in the far wall and reaching his arms into the bin, sweeping up all of their dirty clothes.

 

He turned back out of her room, and had one foot on the stair when he heard the plate shatter.

 

It’s happening again.

 

He dropped the laundry, running about six steps down the stairs, before propelling himself off of the side of the stairwell in an attempt to reach her as soon as possible.

 

He ran to her with the most intent he had ever had about something, falling to his knees and scooping his hands under her head. 

 

He held her as she rode out her seizure, camera shutters clicking as he tried his best to support her head.

 

She eventually faded back into consciousness, the vignette around her eyes growing less as she sat up, gripping onto his shoulder.

 

“Are you okay, Betty? Are you cut anywhere?” He asked. She sat up, the light coming back to her eyes.

 

“Yeah Jug, I’m okay. I just got too worked up, that’s all,” She spoke softly, as she scanned the room in the bewildered state she usually exhibited after her seizures.

 

As his fear dwindled, his anger grew, as he realized what had caused it.

 

All around him, he heard the same thing over and over again.

 

Click

 

Click

 

Click

 

He helped her up, trying to suppress his anger.

 

“Here Betts, you have a seat on the couch, okay?” He asked sweetly, as he helped her over to the couch. As she collapsed, he travelled back into the entryway, eyeing the door. He reached for the handle, but before he could place his hand on it, he heard a small voice from behind him.

 

“Juggie, don’t open that door. They’ll just be getting what they want. Don’t make them stay longer.” She scolded, her voice straining with need.

 

He exhaled, drawing his hands back.

 

“Okay,” he whispered back. He strutted over to her, giving her a kiss on the forehead, before reaching for the remote under the cushion next to her, handing it to her, and turning the cable box on.

 

“You relax, okay? I’ll take care of everything,” He hummed, travelling into the kitchen, grabbing the broom from the crook of the kitchen’s walls. 

 

He swept the shards into a pile, until he bent down to sweep them into the dustpan, when he realized the glass in his knees.

 

He stood back up, leaning the broom against the kitchen sink, before propping his foot up on the counter, pulling back his sweatpants and picking out the large pieces.

 

He ducked back under the sink, until he came back up with peroxide and bandaids. 

 

He opened the peroxide, grabbing a towel off of the kitchen counter and clamping it in his mouth. He didn’t want to worry the blonde who was a mere fifteen feet away. He poured it over his knees into the sink, before unboxing the bandaids and adhering them to his skin. He pulled his clothing back into place, noticing the micro rips from where the glass penetrated into his skin.

 

Maybe it’s better that I didn’t wear my nice sweatpants. He chuckled to himself.

 

After he had finished sweeping up the ceramic shards, he threw the salmon back into the stove, not bothering to fold the aluminum back in. In the time that the commotion had filled, it had gone cold. He doubled back to the living room, leaning down to kiss her forehead before he went back up the stairs. She giggled, and he pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

 

He slowly started up the stairs, keeping his ears perked as he dragged the laundry that had been scattered in his frenzy towards himself, bunching it up in his arms. He bounded back down the stairs.

 

“Hey Betts, are you okay if I run down to the basement for just a minute to throw this stuff in the washer?” He asked.

 

“Sure Jug, I’ll call if I need anything.” She yelled after him. 

 

He ran down the stairs, sprinting to the washer. He threw the clothes in, and added the detergent, configuring the buttons as quickly as possible, and starting the load. 

 

He hustled back up the stairs, to find her smiling at the television as though he had never left.

 

He smiled, before shuffling back into the kitchen, and divvying up their plates. 

 

“Betts, wanna go upstairs?” He asked, calling into the living room.

 

“Sure.” she answered, raising her hand with the clicker to turn to television off.

 

She discarded the blanket to the side, before joining him as he climbed to the top of the stairs, balancing both of their plates.

 

When they made it to her room, her set each item down gently on the floor, right in front of the large chest at the foot of Betty’s bed.

 

She reached over to her desk, lighting a candle. As he rearranged everything to the perfect order, she sat down across from him, stealing a chip off of his plate. 

 

“Wow, chips and salmon. Nice Jones.” She giggled. He reached his hand out to her thigh, resting on it. 

 

“Try feeding someone as demanding as you.” He joked back.

 

She raised her fork, before it appeared that a light bulb had apporated above her head.

 

“Juggie, we forgot drinks, come on, lets go get some.” She giggled, bounding to the doorway.

 

Jughead, who had already opened his mouth, sighed at the news. 

 

“You’re killing me woman!” He strained, getting off the floor.

 

“It’s my job.” She fired back, swinging around the doorway. He followed after her down the stairs. She hit the floor before him, skipping into the kitchen. As he reached it, she had flung the fridge door wide open, before stuffing a bottle of red wine under her shirt.

 

“Betts, what are you doing?” He asked, amused by her.

 

“The cameras can’t see us sneaking wine, we’re underage!” She squealed, running past him, folding inward in an attempt to hide the giant glass bottle. She was failing. Miserably. He laughed as she waddled up the stairs, him following close behind. She had grabbed two glasses, and after they had both sat down, she poured them both heaping glasses.

 

They ate in a comfortable silence, appreciating the time that they were spending together. Then all of the sudden he heard it. 

 

Click.

 

Jughead lost his mind. He marched over to the window and threw open the curtains. The reporter was already scaling down the ladder. His ladder.

 

He walked back over, and grabbed Betty by the hand. As angry as he was, he couldn’t risk her having another seizure. She scrambled to her feet, but he had already dragged her halfway out of the door. He ran down the stairs, as she tripped over her feet trying to follow him.

 

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he grabbed his jacket off of the hook. He had shoved it on, without a shirt underneath. 

 

“Go sit on the couch.” He commanded, his voice deep with anger.

 

“Jug,” She began

 

“Betty, do it now, I swear to God.” He yelled, not meeting her eyes. 

 

Betty was definitely scared. She’d only heard him use that voice two places; the one time when he was really mad at Archie, and in the bedroom. She obeyed his order, sinking back into the couch, her eyes bugging out of her head.

 

He unlocked the normal door lock, along with the three deadbolts he had installed since he had began his cohabitation with Betty.

 

He swung open the door, hitting a reporter’s microphone as she dodged out of the way. He stepped out onto the cement porch, yelling out,

 

“Get the fuck out! No one wants you here! Give us some fucking privacy!” his voice shaking with the fury that ran through his veins.

 

The shutters only intensified, reporters swarming the porch even more than before.

 

He reached into his back pocket, grabbing the cell phone that Betty insisted that he had to have so she could text him good morning.

 

He typed in the keypad, firmly hitting the numbers.

 

9

 

1

 

1

 

He held it up, the numbers echoing across the screen in dark black text. The numbers made an imprint, as whispered passed around. A few reporters began to back away slowly.

 

As he pulled down the box of glass to his other hand, poisoning his fingers to hit the call button, before the reporters ran scattering back to their news trucks. He stood there, satisfied with himself, before he brought the phone down, pretending to tap the button.

 

“Hello, yes. This is Jughead Jones, I’m at the Cooper residence, and people are swarming, trespassing and invading our privacy. Can you send someone down to clear the clatter?” He said into the powerless phone.

 

“Yes, perfect, thank you.”

 

He turned as the lawn had been emptied, opening the door and walking back in. Betty was sitting on the couch, still looking frightened. She was awaiting his next command.

 

“Jug,” She began, in her softest voice, giving him a chance to interrupt and speak for himself.

 

Betty always liked to give people the benefit of the doubt like that.

 

“Betty, I’m sorry.” He began, hanging up his jacket in his haste, and sliding next to her on the couch.

 

“Jug, why did you yell at me like that? Why did you do that in the first place? It’s just stupid people taking stupid photos. You never use that voice on me, why now? Why are you so upset?”

 

A dismal, shocked expression spread over his face.

 

“Because, Elizabeth!”

 

He never called her Elizabeth, only when he was joking with her.

 

“I love you so much, Betty. I want to protect you. I hate seeing you in pain,” He said, his tone softening a small bit. “You just had a fucking seizure for god sakes because of them. That’s why. It's not fair that this is happening to you, Betty, and it’s my job to protect you.”

 

She looked back up at him with sad eyes.

 

“You know I can handle it Jug.” She decided on after a long deliberation.

 

“No Betty, even if you could, I wouldn’t let you. I don’t know what I would do if I missed one of your seizures, or let somebody hurt you. Maybe you can handle it, but I can’t handle it. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you” 

 

Betty moved closer to him, pulling his head into her lap. He began to sob, gripping onto the soft fabric of the t-shirt she had stolen from him.

 

Her fingers moved through his hair, raking against his scalp. She played with her favorite curl of his, smoothing it down, just as a means to let him know she was there. She occasionally leaned forward and brought her miniature thumb to his face, wiping away rogue tears.

 

After a while, she finally spoke.

 

“Juggie?” She questioned. God, she prayed she didn’t just ruin the moment. She had a habit of that.

 

“What?” He murmured softly, not bothering to lift his had from her lap.

 

She paused her breath for a few moments in an attempt to raise his concern. She wanted him to look up at him.

 

As suspected, he rose his head gingerly from her lap, gazing into her red eyes in worry.

 

“I love you too.” 

 

Betty and Jughead didn’t say as many I love yous as most couples who had been together as long as them; they didn’t need to. They just had the trust. They had dynamic. Of course they knew that they loved each other. They were each others safe space. They were comfortable around each other (hell, Jughead had just cried with her), and they wanted the best for each other.

 

God, when she had found him, he was beyond broken. It was right after his mom divorced his father, and had taken Jellybean to Toledo. He was in horrible shape. Now, it was his turn to take care of her. That was part of what was going on between his ears; He owed it to her to protect her by whatever means possible.

 

Back when their relationship had been completely platonic, his favorite thing to do was take pictures of her, and sometimes write about her. Now, of course, his preferences had changed.

 

In many ways in the accord, they were the same. They were both unhinged teens with horrible home lives. They clung to each other because, well, they were the only thing the both of them had. They both craved touched. They needed each other like air to breathe.

 

And that was why they didn’t need to tell each other they loved each other. They just knew.

 

Jughead’s lips parted as he took into account what had just happened. He sat up all of the way, grabbing her face.

 

“I love you Betty, so fucking much, oh my god.” He laughed, his red face smiling at her.

 

She swung her leg over his waist, grabbing his soft cheeks and tasting him. He pulled at the soft, wet cotton of her t-shirt, willing it to come off.

 

She broke apart slowly, as though she was being dragged away and didn’t want to leave.

 

“Jug, we should probably go upstairs.” She whispered as he transferred his attention from her plump lips to her neck.

 

“Okay.” He whispered into her neck, as she slowly glided off of his lap.

 

She grabbed his hand, walking towards the stairs. He took a minor detour, relocking the four locks on the front door, before following her up the steps. As they reached the top of the landing he swirled her around, pulling her closer to him. 

 

He latched onto her, picking her up as her long legs wrapped around him. He backed her into the bedroom, taking her over to her bed and laying her down gently. He leaned onto his forearms. She reached up and grabbed his face, willing him to melt into her. She pulled her hands away from his soft skin, raking her fingernails down his body. The pads of her fingernails finally met with the hem of his sweatpants. 

 

He reached down, swatting her hands away. “Tsk.” He began in her ear. “You first.” 

 

She whined, but obliged. She tugged at the edges of her own t-shirt, pulling it over her head. He tried to help, but instead just fumbled around with his hands in a desperate attempt to remove the article from her body. 

 

His fingertips brushed against her scorching skin as he lowered his mouth to her swollen lips once more. She ran her hands against his bare chest. 

 

“I really wish he kept the serpent jacket on” she thought in spite of herself. 

 

The sloppy kisses he was administering soon found their way down her jaw and neck, his bottom lip slowly dragging against her. The further down her body he went, the deeper she pushed her hands into his thick hair. He slipped his finger under the straps of her old, worn out sports bra she had had since eighth grade, sliding it off of her arms so slowly it made her shiver. He fumbled with the elastic for a few moments, feeling the back to confirm that there were no clasps. After he let out a strained groan that he did the best to suppress, she looked down at him, letting out a laugh.

 

“Juggie, can you seriously not take off a sports bra?”

 

He looked up from his space cradled in her cleavage, smiling awkwardly. “Well, I don’t know. You usually dress up for me.”

 

She rolled her eyes at him, sitting up from her position on the duvet and pulling it over her head, exposing herself to his gaze. She sunk back onto the bed, followed by him. He continued his assault on her collarbone, before moving lower. He took one of her dusty rose nipples into his mouth, grazing it with his teeth. This started a fire within her, as she arched her head back into the mattress. She pulled herself up, making him sit up along with her. Without warning, she climbed onto his lap, being able to feel his sign of arousal straining against her body weight. She pulled him into a deeper kiss, before he once more trailed his lips down her body. 

 

She pulled them apart, her face changing into a darker expression. Lust.

 

Jughead took notice to this, an even darker smirk spreading across his face. “Is baby getting impatient?” He mocked.

 

She slid off of his lap, wasting no time reattending to to elastic of his sweatpants. She pulled them down as much as she could with him being in the cross legged position that he was, before reaching into his boxers and grabbing what was rightfully hers.

 

She took his girth into her hand, swiping her thumb over his slit, earning her a moan in return. She brought her other hand in, working up and down. After he had fully hardened, she pooled the saliva in her mouth in preparation. After her mouth had been adequately filled with spit, she brought her head down, opening her mouth and letting him in.

 

As soon as his sensitive tip grazed her lips, he revolted, pushing her further down onto himself. She choked on him, briefly, before getting back up on the horse and shoving his thick cock down her throat.

 

Praises spilled out of his mouth as tried his best to keep his voice down.

 

She swirled her tongue over his weeping tip, collecting as much of his precum as possible. She loved the taste of him, and ate it up, savoring its salty flavor. Combining it with her spit, she blew a bubble with the rim of her mouth. She giggled, popping it with the sudden output of air. 

 

“Jesus Christ, Betty.” He exhaled, breathy moans escaping from his mouth between the curses pouring out. His hands were entangled in her head, pushing her farther down his shaft.

 

“Oh my god, I’m gonna come.” He moaned out. She suddenly pulled away. 

 

“My turn.” She smiled seductively. She laid back, supported by her forearms, rubbing her legs together as a desperate plea for friction.

 

He looked over, travelling up. His fingertips trailed up the side of her legs to her bare arms, further creating that feeling of need that drove her crazy. He captured one hungry kiss from her lips, tasting what was left of himself on her lips. He loomed back down her body, pulling at the edges of her pants. She lifted up on her forearms, and helped him by shimmying out of them herself. After she was clad in only her lace navy panties.

 

He wasted no time, reaching for her clit through her panties and earning a moan in response. As he swirled it in the pads of his fingers her breathy moans filled the air. In one swift moment, he hooked his pointer finger into the crotch of the scrap, running his fingers through her slick folds. 

 

His upper body travelled so that he was in her ear. He could feel her immense arousal with every pull of his nimble fingers. Out of the blue, he growled into her ear, about an octave lower than intended, “Who are you wet for?”

 

She was taken aback for a moment, but knew the answer instantaneously. “You.” She whispered, her teeth grazing his earlobe as he worked over her swollen clit.

 

“How long?” He smacked into her ear. One singular finger slid into her easily as he coated himself with her arousal.

 

She paused for a moment, biting her lower lip and trying to suppress a moan. After a second of deliberation, she answered “since you put that fucking jacket on.”

 

He pulled his digit out of her cervix, bringing it out and holding his finger above her face.

 

“Want to taste?” He said in a husky voice.

 

“Yes please.” She begged, raising her head and sticking her tongue out, begging for him to allow her to taste herself. He brought his finger towards her, but before her essence could make its way to her mouth, she reached up and grabbed his fingers.

 

He raised his eyebrows, pulling his finger away from her still suckling mouth. She whined, not being completely done. “You shouldn’t have been greedy…” he began. “You know that I’m going to have to punish you now, right?” He smirked. Before giving her a chance to respond, he travelled back down to where she wanted him most, pulling the scrap still barely covering her snatch down her legs. After he had discarded it to the floor, he spread her apart. 

 

He ghosted his lips up her inner thigh. He breathed onto her sweetest spot, before he latched his mouth onto her clit. She let out a loud curse of his name which he ignored. Her hips bucked towards his mouth as he held her down, reaching his hands onto the flat plains of her hips, covered by badly healed self harm scars. The feeling of suppression only turned her on more, as he pushed her to the brink of release, her mewls gaining in intensity and frequency the faster he went. 

 

“Juggie, oh my god. I’m go…” She began, but couldn’t even bother to finish her sentence before he pulled off of her with a loud pop. She whined at his release, pulling on his hair and forcing him back to where she wanted him most, but he pulled fully away.

 

“Daddy, why did you stop?” 

 

“Because you were being a bad girl. I told you that you were going to be punished. Now get on all fours now.” He spoke with an uncanny confidence in his voice, ordering her into the most demeaning position he could think of.

 

She slid her hands seductively down the duvet, raising her rump into the air and shaking it slightly, willing him to slap it and put her in her place. He didn’t give her the satisfaction she so craved, instead setting one hand gently on the curve between her legs and stomach where she was bent for him. His left hand pumped himself a few times, before he took himself more gently, his tip grazing her pussy. She let out a moan in response, her arousal growing by the minute. As a form of punishment, he continued sliding himself across her slick, feeling it hard to continue and resist the urge to push into her.

 

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” She cried, feeling overwhelmed with pleasure. 

 

His hand strayed from the curve of her hip, coming up to brush her hair away from her hair and pulling her up onto her fours. He tugged, forcing her to look behind at him. “Oh, you’re sorry?” He mocked, pulling her harshly farther back, up onto just her knees. 

 

She strained, her breasts bouncing as he pulled her farther and farther from her comfortable range of motion. “Yes, Daddy. Please forgive me.”

 

He felt a wave of evil come over himself. Seeing her as a crumpled bound of want, he lurched forward, nibbling on her earlobe as he pressed himself flush against her back. “Well, that’s too bad.” He growled, aligning himself with her entrance and briskly pushing into her, feeling her walls radiate with need. She note out a strangled sound, trying desperately to adjust to his girth before he moved in her. Before she could fully take in the feeling of being wrapped around him, he pulled halfway out, thrusting in harder until he hit the hilt. He did another slow, hard rotation, trying to spoil her while getting his point across. After her cries of discomfort had been reduced to more breathy moans, he quickened his pace, slamming into her as her moans chopped from the sensation. 

 

Tears poured from her eyes as his hand trailed up her body, grabbing onto her shoulder to increase the leverage he already got from his hands being buried in her hair. He pulled her back while simultaneously thrusting forward, relishing in the sound of their skin slapping together.

 

Dirty words spilled from each of their mouths as he pulled her back onto himself over and over. She let out a high keen when he had found the right spot, and he hit it over and over again. 

 

“Yes, baby. Show Daddy how good and slow you can milk my cock.” He moaned into her ear, once again encasing his fisted hand in her hair and pulling her in an arch off of the mattress, his thrusts becoming slower, but with more passion and purpose. 

 

She let out deep breath and a moan simultaneously as he came inside of her, his hot seed filling her up. He kept going into her, letting her chase his release until she came around him, only adding to the sticky mess exploding over the back of her thighs where they contacted.

 

His hand let down her hair, dropping her down onto the bed. He backed up, gently pulling the duvet back so they could lie underneath it. She crawled up next to him, their combined come beginning to leak out of her. She rest her hand on his chest, following with her head as the warm temperature of the room caused their skin to stick together. He wrapped his arms around her, scooping her hand off of his chest and interlocking his fingers with hers.

 

***

 

Cheryl Blossom climbed over the back fence of Archie Andrews lawn. It was the easiest way to escape unnoticed. She had been outside Betty Coopers house; she had used Jughead’s ladder to peer into the bedroom window, hoping to catch an intimate moment to leak to the newspapers. However, she had found them with a bottle of wine, and although it wasn’t the Betty-Cooper-the-sister-of-a-murderer-giving-her-boyfriend-a-handjob material she was hoping for, it was still a crime.

 

Maybe Cheryl had committed that exact crime more than a few times, but that doesn’t matter.

 

She had used her Iphone camera, forgetting to turn off her ringer, causing the sound that sent Jughead off. It was almost funny watching him get so worked up. She had stolen one of the darker, less red wigs from her late father's large collection, tucking her hair into it and wearing an average person's clothes in an attempt to pose as a reporter.

 

She was going to be coming back within the next few hours. But for now, she wanted to get the hell out of there. As much as she hated to admit it, both Betty and Jughead were pretty smart, and she didn’t want them to stunt her future plans.

 

She had not really had a plan, to be honest. She just wanted to ruin Betty’s life by whatever means possible.

 

As she sunk into the expensive chair in front of her computer, having made it home, she pulled the wig off, tossing it under her bed. It wasn’t like her dead father was going to miss it dearly.

 

She sighed, her red claws typing in her password to the computer. She opened up her browser, hitting the compose button. She decided on CNN, The Daily News, and Time magazines. 

 

After she had clicked onto the send button, she walked down the stairs, grabbing a strawberry daiquiri from the fridge. Sure, Cheryl had drank before, but Betty Cooper deserved the punishment.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for my recent absence, my computer broke and I just got a new one. Besides that, I met Cole and he was super sweet, and I was also nominated for the bughead fanfic awards for one of my oneshots! I didn't win, but it was definitely an honor to be nominated. That being said, please enjoy this extremely angsty chapter. Mentions of self-harm are included, so please be safe. All mistakes are my own.

“Juggie, do you want to watch a movie? Or like, get up. This is the second time in twelve hours; maybe we should you know, do something.” She chuckled.

 

“Awe, Betty, sweet, naive Betty. You know I can’t get anything done around you.”

 

“You want to like, watch a movie or something?” She asked again.

 

“Okay, as long as I get to cuddle you.” He jokes, drawing her closer and kissing the top of her head.

 

She turned up and away from him, looking across the room at the remote. He looked at it too, turning towards her.

 

“You want to go get it?” He asked, his lis curling into a smile.

 

“No.” She giggled back, in the same way a two year old would say it.

 

“Well, I’m naked.” 

 

“We both are.” She rolled her eyes.

 

He looked at her cleavage,

 

glancing back up into the sea of emerald that lay before him.

 

“Yeah, but I like looking at you.” He smiled dumbly.

 

“Well, I like looking at you”

 

“Ugh.” He sighed, the bed creaking as his hands slid away from her skin, his feet touching the floor with a soft tuft.

 

He pulled his boxers on reluctantly as he walked over to get it, as Betty rolled over and checked her phone. It was nothing much. She had turned off her twitter, snapchat, and instagram notifications the moment she had gotten a threatening direct message from someone in Maryland. All that showed on her screen was a text from Veronica

 

My house, now. Bring Jug.

 

She sat bolt upright, using what was left of the consciousness that she had not focused on decoding the message on affixing the comforter to her chest. She brought her eyes up to his head as he turned around.

 

“Betts, what is it?” He asked, a playful tone underlining his voice.

 

Betty didn’t move, her face still holding a dumbfounded look. Seeing that she didn’t move, still harboring a dismayed expression, he increased his intensity. “Betty what’s wrong?” he questioned again, sliding onto the bed next to her

 

She showed him the phone, hitting the power button on the side as the screen began to time out. 

 

“What do you think she means?” she asked to no one in particular.

 

Jughead sighed, letting his lips curl into themselves. Humor seemed to seem appropriate.

 

“Well, it is Veronica Lodge, so we never truly know. But perhaps she needs both you and a man’s opinion on an outfit or something.” He smirked. In all sincerity, he probably wouldn’t put it past her; she had sent an identical message in an attempt to get the couples opinion on lingerie just in case despite her current single state.

 

Betty giggled, shaking her head. “No, I think it’s serious, but we should probably get going.”

 

“Okay, just let me get dressed?”

 

Betty threw the covers off, her feet hitting the carpeted floor. She stretched her arms up, throwing her hair back over her shoulder. She stood up, walking over to her wardrobe and pulling out a pair of jeans, before putting them back and grabbing a pair of his sweatpants. 

 

Jughead strolled over to her, playfully hitting his hip to hers, knocking her out of the way. She giggled, kissing him on the cheek.

 

He scanned her up and down, stopping first at her chest and second at his pair of sweatpants with the extra fabric pooled around her hips and ankles.

 

“Are those mine?” The boy asked, already knowing the answer.

 

“They’re ours.” She said, returning to her search for a bra and a shirt.

 

As much as Jughead would like to be annoyed, she looked cute he had to admit, so he let it slide, squatting down to pull out a drawer. He found a pair of jeans to pull on, before grabbing his shirt off of her desk chair and sliding his serpent jacket on and setting his hat messily on his head.

 

Betty turned away from the wardrobe, throwing whatever article of clothing that would match the sweatpants onto her body. She pushed open the white wooden door to her bathroom, her soles sticking to the linoleum. She shuddered at the temperature drop as the surface under her feet transformed from soft and carpeted to hard and cold. She grabbed her brush as she worked the snarl at the top of her head from his excessive hair pulling moments earlier out.

 

Jughead trailed behind her, sliding into the bathroom that could barely fit one. He wrapped one of his arms around her waist, snatching the hairbrush out of her hands.

 

“Juggie, I can do it.”

 

He smirked, pulling a section framing her face back behind her ears, taking the brush to it. “It’s my mess; shouldn’t I clean it up?”

 

Betty pulled the mirror back, scanning the shelves to make sure everything was in order, before she returned her gaze to the right side of the middle shelf, grabbing her Citalopram and Doxepin and pushing down to take the caps off. Betty poured two of each into her palm, tilting her head back and taking them without water.

 

He placed the brush back down on the ceramic sink, wrapping his remaining arm around her waist and setting his head on her shoulder, taking in their combined scent. 

 

“Are you doing those like you’re supposed to?” He whispered into her freshly combed hair.

 

Betty nodded, placing the lid back on. 

 

“Okay. Let’s get going.” Jughead whispered as his arms travelled away from her.

 

They wafted back into her bedroom and she grabbed her purse off of her bedpost. When they had reached the bottom of the landing, the pulled the blinds open. Only one car with debated ownership.

 

Sweet.

 

Betty turned around to see him hopping with one shoe on, struggling to get his leather boots without unzipping the sides.

 

She giggled, walking over to the shoe mat and grabbing her sneakers. She slipped them on effortlessly, grabbing the back of her shoes to squeeze her feet into them. 

 

He pushed the door open, letting her out before he locked the door behind them, placing his arm around her hip as they bobbled out to the garage. Jughead reached down, pulling the manual door from the floor as the motorcycle was revealed.

 

He grabbed her helmet off the top shelf, before going back to the motorcycle and taking his helmet off of the leather seats as she slid on behind him. The Serpent turned around, facing her before he guided it over her head, brushing a hair out of her face, and fastening it.

 

Jughead pulled off his hat and slid his own helmet onto his head as he revved up the bike, pushing off into the street. 

 

They reached the shores of the Pembrooke in a few minutes, the lights beaming as Veronica awaited their arrival. They got off of the bike, putting their helmets on the seat, and Jughead his hat back onto his head before scaling the steps to the the mansion. As soon as Jughead reached out for the door handle the door swung open revealing Veronica Lodge clad in a black dress, even though it was three on Saturday afternoon. 

 

That aside, she grabbed him by the leather of his jacket, before grabbing Betty from the back of the arm, slamming the door behind them. 

 

“Veronica, what the hell is going on?” He demanded, snatching his arm from her grip, before laying it around Betty’s shoulders.

 

“Come to my room. Now.” she snapped at the two of them. They followed without question, past the dining room table that Hermione was sat at, drinking her glass of Merlot. They finally came to Veronica’s light purple oasis. Betty sat down softly on the bed, her hands crossed nervously in her lap. Jughead sat down beside her, snaking his arm around her shoulder where it had previously resided. Veronica slammed the door shut, using her fingers topped with short purple nails to turn the lock.

 

She strutted to the other side of her bed, flipping her silver computer around to show a bright red and black headline.

 

“Betty Cooper, Sister of Murderer Polly Cooper, Spotted Drinking And Getting It On With Her Boyfriend”

 

There were seven photos attached, three of which were taken from her bedroom window. 

 

Veronica switched tabs.

 

“Betty Cooper’s Boyfriend Rampages Against Reporters”

 

Jughead shot up, slamming the screen shut with enough force to break the screen, not that Veronica would necessarily care. Betty stood up slowly, still testing the water. She wasn’t always sure how to act when he was this fired up.

 

He grabbed his hat off of his dark locks, throwing it at the ground with all the force he could seem to muster. His hands gripped at his roots. He exhaled, pacing. 

 

“Oh my god. Oh my god. What are we going to do?” he muttered, opening his arms and turning to face them.

 

“I honestly don’t know. But Jug, it’s going to be okay. Listen to me-” Betty began, reaching out to grab his hand. He pulled it back.

 

“Betty, I know you want to go to college and all, and that’s great, but it doesn’t matter as much to you as it does to me. I have to go to college. It’s not an option. It’s the only way I can get out of this fucking town. If I don’t make it, I’m done. So you can go and throw it all away, but this shit matters to me! Do you think their going to want someone like who these articles say I am?”

 

She pulled away, her mouth gaping open as she processed every word he had said. Her fists balled up as she dug her nails into her flesh.

 

“So you’re breaking up with me, exactly when I need you? I thought you loved me!” She yelled at him, turning around and dragging her hands up from her forehead to her ponytail until they fell back to her sides.

 

His face softened as his hands sunk to her sides, taking his hands in hers. He ran his thumbs over the new cuts she had created. He looked back up at her, taking his right hand from her hands to cup her face. 

 

Veronica let herself out.

 

A single tear rolled down her cheek as her lip quivered.

 

“No, no, no, no. Betty, I would never leave you. And I do love you. So much. I just was mad. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

 

She turned away from him, wiping her eyes. When she turned back around, he was down on both knees

 

“Betty, please.” 

 

She walked past him, opening the door and slamming it behind her. Jughead sunk to the floor.

 

Holy shit. Oh my god.

 

Jughead reached over, grabbing his hat off of the floor where he left it. He scrambled off of the floor, opening the door and trailing after her. He walked around the lodge residence until he found the two of them in the kitchen.

 

“Betty,” he began.

 

She sighed loudly, before grabbing her jacket and walking out of the kitchen, followed by Veronica who remained wordless. He followed them out of the Pembroke and down the stairs. Betty and Veronica climbed into the backseat of a limousine. As Jughead got within reach of the door handle, the car sped off.

 

Great.

 

Jughead returned to his bike, starting it up slowly. He sat down on it, placing his helmet onto his hair, before he though for a second where she could be. He decided that he was going to swing by Pop’s, and if she was not there, she had to come home eventually. The motorcycle revved, and he sped off to the very edge of the Northside, a large contrast from the far side to Greendale where the rich people lived.

 

He finally pulled up, parking the bike in his usual spot before going into the restaurant. The telltale, jolly bell rung as his boots hit the tile. Pop came out from the back, a broom in his hands.

 

A warm smiled graced his face as he began “Hey, Jughead!” I haven’t seen you in a while!”

 

Jughead’s grimace made his happy expression drop. He thought that if he was going to come in after such a long while, he should atleast get something. “Hey, Pop.” He began softly, an odd calm spreading over his voice, making it thick like butter. “Can I get three burgers and a two liter Pepsi?” he smiled.

 

“Sure thing, Jug!” Pop cheered wearily, retreating back into the kitchen. Jughead reached into the pocket of his leather jacket, pulling out his cell phone. He unlocked it, opening the phone app, and pressing her name with the hearts next to it. Straight to voicemail. He clicked the home button, opening up the messaging app. 

 

Betty, please call me. I’m so sorry.

 

He opened up Instagram as a last resort, sliding over to the direct message tab. A small green dot showed up on the side of her profile picture. Active. He sighed, typing out a message.

 

Betty, I’m sorry I got mad. Please call me, I need to make this better.

 

He slid the phone back into his pocket, just as Pop came into view, holding three bags and a pop bottle. Jughead opened his wallet, pulling a twenty out, smoothing it, and then handing it forward. Pop gave him back his change, and then pushed the food towards him. Jughead took it, turning on his heel, before he came to the door, remembering why he came.

 

“Hey Pop, have you seen Betty or Veronica, or any of Veronica’s henchmen?” He chuckled, imagining Veronica as an medieval princess. 

 

Pop shook his head no. Jughead sighed, thanking Pop and going back out to his bike. He fastened the food to the storage compartment, and pushed off to visit Betty’s house. 

 

As he pulled up, he could see the bedroom light on. Jughead got off of his bike, grabbing the food from his motorcycle trunk. He trailed up the front stairs, knocking on the door. When no one came to the door, he rummaged through his pockets, his fingers eventually landing on the metal keys. He pulled them out of his pocket, going through the keyring until he came to the black key labeled home that she had gotten made for him. Hastily he unlocked the door, hearing muffled talking as it creaked open.

 

Jughead hung his jacket up, plucking the beanie off of his head and sliding it onto the entryway table. Kneeling down, he unzipped his boots, sliding them off of his feet as quietly as possible. He turned around, looking for a second, before deciding to set the bottle of pop down on the entryway table. He slowly crept up the stairs, cringing every time the wood creaked under his soles. 

 

***

 

Betty ducked into the backseat of the car after Veronica. She saw Jughead coming after her, and slammed the door, just as he hit the landing at the bottom of the stairs. As he continued coming after her, the car sped away. 

 

“Betty’s, Andre,” Veronica barked at the driver. The car jerked away, speeding off.

 

Betty dropped her head to her hands. Veronica placed her palms on her shoulders, rubbing them in circles trying to calm her down. Hot tears poured down Betty’s face, gravity pulling them down towards her legs. Her lungs felt like they were screaming as she choked on her own mucus. Her hands crept up towards her hairline, her fingers twisting into her hair. She balled it up into her fists as a desperate attempt to put something in between her fingernails and her palms before her emotions overcame her.

 

Veronica noticed, having known about her self-harm, and untangled her hands from her hair tenderly, using her hands as buffers from her best friend’s nails. 

 

“Shhh, Betty, it’s going to be okay. You guys are going to be fine. Sit up so you can breathe. Breathe please. Betty, breathe,” Veronica affirmed, slowly and gently forcing her chest up so that she could see her. 

 

“I can’t. I can’t, oh my god, I can’t,” she sobbed, barely being able to speak, heavy, strained heaves coming out in place of words. She turned over to Veronica, burying her head into her collarbone, crying on her best friend’s shoulder, her tears soaking through the fibers of Veronica’s expensive shirt. They pulled up to Betty’s house, Andre not bothering to speak in an attempt to avoid being shushed by Veronica. 

 

Veronica ran her nails over Betty’s messy hair, smoothing over the pieces that she had embedded her fingers in. She swayed with her for a few moments, before speaking softly into her ears “Betty, we’re here. Do  
you want to go inside?” 

 

Betty nodded, peeling herself off of Veronica, as she slowly pried her hands out of Veronica’s grasp. She brought her hands up, wiping her eyes, before nodding. Veronica popped open the door, helping Betty out of the car. “I’ll call when I’m ready,” She whispered softly to Andre, slamming the door behind them. They walked up the sidewalk, and Veronica reached under the mat to find the key, and unlocked the door. Veronica quickly discarded her heels, helping Betty up the stairs. 

 

After they had descended into her bedroom, Betty collapsed to the floor in tears. Her heart ached. Her legs burned. Veronica helped her up, insisting that she at least get onto her bed. Betty grudgingly obliged, sitting on her bed. She felt as though she was burning, but also numb. She stared at her vanity from where she was sitting on her bed. She brought up her fingertips to touch her ribs, sore from crying. Her head pounded, and she could hear her heartbeat in her head. 

 

Am I really that much of a burden to him?

 

After a long while of silence, broken by her fractured sobs once in a while, Veronica spoke up. “Are you okay?” 

 

Betty turned to her. She had realized that there was no point in crying over it anymore; whatever was going to happen was going to happen. She nodded, gulping as she tried to fight back tears. She tried to speak, waivering a bit, before she finally pushed it out. 

 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s watch a movie.”

 

Veronica walked across the room, plucking the remote off of the tv stand, before returning to Betty’s bed where her best friend was already cuddled up under the duvet. Veronica slid into bed beside her, handing Betty the remote. Betty turned on the set, deciding on whatever it was that came up first, before tossing the remote to her feet on the bed. 

 

***

 

Jughead had come to the top of the landing, standing in front of where Betty’s door was closed. He took in a deep breath, raising his closed fist to the door. He hesitated for a moment, before rapping his knuckles on the door. When he heard no answer he opened it, leading with the food. He stuck his head in, a timid, scared look spreading across his eyes. 

 

Betty deliberated for a second, feeling both her best friend and beau's eyes on her, before letting out a small “come in,” She sat up, throwing the duvet off of her legs. She swung her feet over the edge so she was facing the door.

 

He stumbled into the room, shaking the bag. He walked over to Betty’s vanity, pulling the chair that she sat in to do her hair out of its place under the desk. He scooted it up to her bedside, sitting down so that he could reach over, setting the bags on the foot of the bed, returning back to sit straight up in the chair.

 

“Hey,” He smiled sadly.

 

“Got anything to say?” She sighed, refusing to meet his eyes. She stared instead at the floor, her hands folding in on themselves, resting them on her thighs as she dug her fingernails against the already raw area. He noticed, looking first at her face, and then to her hands. He cautiously walked forward and grabbed them off of her thighs, pulling them into his hands, creating a barrier against her nails and her flesh. He grinded his teeth as she punctured his skin. He noticed a single tear rolling down her cheek, before gravity pulled it off. It splashed into her thigh where her hands had been scrunched moments before. Jughead knew she wanted to hurt him.

 

“Betty, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was being stupid. You are the most important thing in my life, okay? You are my future. I love you so much. You are my world, do you understand me?” Jughead begged. Her hands loosened, allowing him to slip his hands up to her chin, forcing her to look at him.

 

“Jughead, get out,” She objected.

 

He sat for a minute, gathering his words.

 

“No,” 

 

“Jughead, please,” she stuttered, her voice shaking. “I can’t handle this right now,”

 

He transferred his seat, switching so that he was sitting next to her. She kept her eyes trained on the floor, her lips folding in on each other. 

 

“Jughead!” Veronica scolded him in a whisper.

 

He didn’t bother to look at her, but he could feel her weight shift off of the bed and could see her figure leave the room out of the corner of his eye. 

 

“Betty. You are my everything,” He whispered.

 

Betty swallowed, the ball in her throat bobbing as she looked up at him. As much as she wanted to turn away, and to hurt him as he had hurt her, she succumbed. She just couldn’t keep living this way. “You’re my everything too,” 

 

She folded into him, her head pressing into the middle of his chest. Her hands gripped onto his shirt, one onto his shirt collar and one onto his far sleeve. Her breathing quickened as she sobbed, her vision blurring in and out. She began to choke on her own tears and spit. He could feel her shaking against him as he stroked her hair.

 

“Betty, calm down. It’s okay. It’s okay. Shh, it’s okay. Stay with me, please. Don’t have a seizure. I’m here. I’m here,” He held her as tight as he could, still giving her time to breathe.

 

She shook feverishly, half from her oncoming seizure, and half from the relief of having him back. His words blurred together. She was on the edge of letting herself go, giving into the seizure, before she decided.

 

No.

 

All at once, the shaking subsided, his words coming back into earshot.

 

“Sh, it’s okay. It’s okay. I have you, I’m not going to let go,” He cooed into her hair as he pressed his lips into her soft hair, willing her to stay with him.

 

Betty started crying harder as he rocked her back and forth in an effort to console her. “I’m okay,” She whispered, letting him know to stop fretting. Her fingers ran towards her palms out of habit, and she tried to stop it. He noticed, removing her hands from the now wrinkled and scrunched fabric of his t-shirt to hold them in his own once more, his thumbs snaking their way in between her nails and the soft spot that she loved to abuse. She eased into him even more than she had before, now sitting with her back pressed to his chest as she sunk into his lap. He held her arms at a comfortable cross, using his arms to pull her closer to him. Her shuddering breaths could be heard around the room as she rode out her crying with forced double breaths. 

 

They stayed like that for awhile, before she gently pulled her hands out of his grasp, wiping her eyes as her sniffles trailed out. She slowly turned around to face him, still sitting in her lap. She brought her arms up, resting her forearms on his shoulders and scraping her fingernails on the back of his neck. 

 

“Juggie?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

She inhaled deeply, making sure to fill her lungs as full as they could get so that she could get it out with less breaths in between. “Thank you for helping me not have a seizure. And thanks for the food. But Jughead, I don’t know if I can just take you back so easily. I care about you, and I want to be with you, I just think we need some time apart. I need to recover, you need to as well, and just think, now the media has no reason to swarm you,”

 

He sat up further, searching her eyes so prove to himself that it was a trick. But it wasn’t.

 

“No, no. Betty. That’s the opposite of what I want. What if you have a seizure and I can’t be there? Or if someone tries to hurt you? I couldn’t live with myself!” He raised his voice. Betty shifted off of his lap, backing away slowly.

 

“Jughead, I think it’s what’s best for us. Just for awhile.” 

 

“What the fuck, Betty? We were fine! I was sleeping in your bed three hours ago!”

 

“But you meant what you said, didn’t you? I’m a burden to you! I’m getting in your way. Quit pretending that you never saw it. Everyone knew it was coming!” She yelled at him, pacing her room.

 

“Betty, you know I didn’t mean any of that,” He stuttered.

 

She turned back around towards him slowly, soaking up every moment to decide upon what she was going to say. “Really? Cause it sure seemed like you did. You know what? Maybe we shouldn’t get back together, after all!”

 

He froze in his seat, before jolting up to meet her.

 

“Betty, I love you too much to-” He began, before being cut off by her.

 

“Stop! Stop it! Stop saying you love me, please! I can’t do it anymore! Please just go. I can’t look at you anymore. It hurts!” She sobbed, tears pouring down her face.

 

Jughead stood there a moment, his frame and features softening. He licked his lips, his brain ellipsing as he desperately tried to think of something to say. “Do… Do you really want me to go?” He asked softly.

 

“Yes. Go for a ride or something, I’ll go to the Pembrooke with V and you can come back here and just stay for a few days until we can get this mess sorted out,” 

 

Her voice was shaky. She didn’t really want him to leave. She didn’t know what she wanted. As he turned, grabbing his house keys off of where they had sat unbothered on her desk for the last two weeks, she wanted to get down on her knees and beg him to stay. But she had to let him go.

 

“Goodbye, Betty.” He said, his voice starting choked, and then jumping to a whisper as he fought to get the words out.

 

Chills hit her like a wave, starting in the middle of her shoulder blades and rippling out and down the front of her arms as she forced her lips together and closed her eyes, trying to force the image of him leaving them room out of his mind.

 

As soon as she heard the door close with a loud slam, she fell to the floor, shaking as her head and heart screamed. Veronica turned the door open as soon as Jughead had trotted halfway down the stairs. She fell to the floor, sliding next to her and wrapping her arms around her shoulders and giving her a long squeeze. Betty felt the opening to her throat grow smaller as she gasped for air. Her vision began to fade as her body shook even harder. She fell the rest of the way to the floor, her head hitting the hardwood with a hollow thud.

 

Jughead heard it faintly from the bottom of the floor as he pulled his boots onto his feet, swallowing the lump in his throat. He decided to keep going, as much as it hurt. It was probably just Veronica messing something up, anyway.

 

***

 

Jughead rode back to the trailer park, his heart ponding in his throat. Everything swirled in his head and his chest felt like someone had just opened him up and set him on fire. He walked up the steps to the trailer, raising his eyes so that he could peer into the trailer through the small window in the door. His heart froze when he saw his father sitting on the couch, drunk as a skunk. There was a beer bottle in his hands, and a few empties scattered around him as the TV flickered on his face.

 

Jughead backed away, creeping down the stairs as quietly as he could as to not alert his father to his whereabouts. Well, that’s out. He walked back across the trailer park, hopping back on his bike and riding back to the Cooper house. If she was still home, well then tough shit. 

 

He pulled up, seeing no sign of life except for three news cars parked against the street. He crept around the back, swinging his ladder into place. He scaled it, finding the window still unlocked. He crawled in headfirst and swung his feet around, attempting to keep the Southside grime on his boots away from the soft pink cushion of her window seat. He sat down, pulling his boots off, before he stuck his head out the door, verifying that he was alone. He ducked his head back into her bedroom, letting the door hit the doorframe, but never actually close. He slipped off his shoes and climbed onto her bed, the messy sheets oozing her smell. He cried a little, before deciding that he should go to bed despite the early time. He climbed under the covers, onto his usual side. He switched out his pillow for hers, smelling her perfume. He dozed off, his arms outstretched as though he was still holding onto her.

 

***

 

The limousine pulled up to the Pembrooke, Veronica stepping out before Betty, taking her hand. Andre ran around the back, grabbing Betty’s singular suitcase. They walked into the atrium, Veronica ordering Andre Around as they went to Veronica's bedroom.

 

When they had reached the bedroom, Veronica locked the door behind her, shoving the laptops off of her bed. She sat down and looked at her best friend. “So, you guys actually broke up?” She asked meekly.

 

Betty trailed her eyes to the floor. She wasn’t sure if she could ever speak again. She just nodded, folding her lips in together on the inside of her mouth, clamping down on the joint with both sets of teeth, willing herself not to burst. Veronica brought her cold hands out, rubbing her palm up and down on Betty’s arm. Betty pulled away for a moment, before folding back into Veronica, setting herself on the shelf of her breasts and crying into her sweater dress. Veronica swayed side to side, coddling Betty as she tried to calm her down.

 

Betty trailed off her sobs, replacing them with hiccups as Veronica pulled her closer. Betty dug her fingers into her sweater, trying to avoid marking herself. After a few minutes, she pulled off of her, wiping her nose.

 

Veronica broke the silence with her soft voice, a harsh contrast from a few minutes earlier. “Betty, we should go to the emergency room,”

 

Betty shrunk to the other side of her bed. She had been scared of the doctors ever since she was a little girl. She shook her head viciously no.

 

“Come on, Betty. You had two seizures in one day. Have you even been diagnosed with epilepsy yet?” Her best friend coined, standing up off of the bed and gathering Betty’s coat from where it was hung on the back of her doorknob. 

 

Betty pushed back farther onto the bed, shaking her head more. “No, V. I’m okay. And I don’t need to be diagnosed, there’s nothing wrong with me,” 

 

Veronica crossed her arms, Betty’s brown sherpa jacket hanging on her pointer finger. “Betty, I know you’re scared. But I’m scared for you. So please just come with me. I can get you in and out in thirty minutes, I have connections,” Veronica commanded, her tone growing gradually less loving.

 

“I’m just stressed out, that’s all. When Jughead and I get back together I’ll be fine,” She insisted, pausing a bit at his name, forcing it out. She hoped they would get back together. Maybe speaking it into existence would make it happen.

 

“But Betty, your happiness can’t depend on him. Please just come with me and we can get you on something. Then you won’t have seizures anymore and I won’t have to worry because I know you’re okay. Please Betty,” 

 

“No, V. I’m not going,”

 

“Then you’re not staying her,.” Veronica asserted, her voice gaining that edge and losing all sympathy.

 

Betty turned her head from where her eyes were trained on the pillow to Veronica as she jumped to her feet. “You can’t do that,”

 

“Wanna watch me?” Veronica chided. 

 

There was a significant pause as Betty deliberated on her options. “Fine!” she cried out finally. “I’ll go. Just please let me keep living here,” 

 

Veronica raised her eyebrow, strolling over to the door and unlocking it. “Car leaves in five minute,.” She walked out, leaving the door open behind her. God, her best friend could be a bitch

 

Betty sunk down onto the bed, taking deep breaths like Jughead had taught her. Betty wasn’t religious by any means, but she prayed to God that her and Jughead would get better. She always felt guilty only calling to someone she wasn’t even sure she believed in when she needed something, so she peppered in a “thank you for all you’ve already done for me.” even though she thought to herself and look where I’m at now. After a few more pleads she got up, grabbing her coat where Veronica threw it onto the bed, and slipped the ratty shoes that she had had since freshman year onto her feet. She smoothed down her fly-aways in Veronica’s mirror before running out the door. She hadn’t been to the doctor's office in two years, and was scared out of her mind.

 

***

 

Jughead rolled out of bed, the alarm on his phone blaring on the other side of the room. He had learned to keep it on her desk because if he didn’t they would never get up. Granted, it was just him now, but it still applied. He tousled his hair, sliding a t-shirt on. He leaned over and shut the alarm off, unplugging it from the charger. 

 

He jostled down the stairs, feeling the emptiness tug on his heartstrings. He pulled open the cabinet, deciding after a brief scanning that he would decide on oatmeal. Jughead reached into the box, cringing at the rough feeling of the cardboard. He pulled it out, walking over to the counter as sliding it onto the granite. Jughead stomped back over to a different cupboard, grabbing a bowl, before he reached down, pulling out the drawer and grabbing a spoon. He closed the cupboard and hit the drawer in with his hip, strutting back to the island. He opened up the packet, pouring it into the bowl. Realizing that he had forgotten the milk, and turned around to the fridge to grab it out. Jughead unscrewed the cap, pouring it in without bothering with the measurements. He stirred it as quickly as he could, throwing into the microwave and pressing the two minute button. 

 

He bounded up the stairs while it was cooking, rounding the corner to her room. He changed his pants, deciding to keep his shirt on. He lazily pulled his hat on, walking over to his smallest drawer and grabbing a roll of socks and collapsing onto the messy bed to pull them on. He grabbed his jacket off of its spot on the back of the chair, the gentle leather sticking to his hands. Jughead shoved his arms into it, grabbing his laptop off of the desk and slowly closing the door as the timer went off. 

 

He made it down the stairs when it beeped again to remind him. He raced in, playing a game with himself to get to it before it went off, narrowly winning. Skillfully he took the breakfast out, fumbling a bit with the hot bowl, before popping it into the fridge so that it would cool faster. 

 

He scanned the dining room, his eyes falling on the far corner where he kept the leather messenger bag he used for school, a thin layer of dust covering it. He squatted down, brushing the dust off, before he picked it up and slung it over his shoulder. The side flapped open and he began sliding his laptop into the casing. He closed it, running back over to the fridge and taking out the oatmeal. He shoveled it into his mouth, throwing the empty bowl into the sink. 

 

Jughead pulled his heavy boots on, zipping up the sides. He unlocked the door, stepping out of the house. His bike appeared suddenly before him and he found himself inserting the key and turning it on.

 

***

 

Betty and Veronica opened the car door as the sun ran down the sky towards the line of trees separating Riverdale and Centerville. Andre tried to follow them into the hospital before Veronica scolded him. “No, Andre. We don’t need you,” 

 

They walked into the emergency ward, the automatic doors sliding open under their combined weight. Veronica wasted no time in finding the check-in counter. “Hi! I’ve never done this before, but I have miss Betty Cooper here and we would like to see Dr. McCoy as soon as possible!” She kept her tone sweet and down to earth, something she usually did when she wanted to win over bored workers.

 

She young nurse looked up from the paperwork she was filing, taken a bit aback. “I’m sorry,” she began through a smile “but you cannot request specific ER doctors,” 

 

Veronica smiled, tilting her head as her tone dropped. “Did I forget to mention that my name is Veronica Lodge, as in Lodge enterprises? My father donated quite a sum of money to this hospital every year, so you tell me, wouldn’t you find it fitting that I have priority?” 

 

The nurse looked around, and quickly gave Veronica the paperwork. “Please come back as soon as you get this filled out, and we will get to you as soon as possible,” 

 

Veronica ripped it away from her, the nurses hands quickly retreating to back under her desk. “So I assume we get priority?”

 

The nurse nodded, hurriedly returning to her work. Veronica waltzed over to a plush seat in the mostly empty waiting room, patting the seat, suggesting that Betty sit next to her. She filled in the information on the top, and what she knew, before she started asking Betty questions.

 

“Okay, are you on any medications?”

 

“Yeah, Citalopram for my anxiety and Doxepin for my depression,” she said quietly, struggling a bit over her names. 

 

Veronica jotted it down, guessing on the spelling, and continued on. “Last doctors visit?”

 

“September 2017,”

 

Veronica looked up from the paper, a joking smile splayed across her face. “Okay, so you’re going to hate me for asking these questions, but they’re on here so I have to, okay?” 

 

Betty gave her an odd look, but nodded hesitantly, lowering her gaze to fall upon her thumbs as she pulled on the skin around her cuticles.

 

“Do you use illegal drugs?” 

 

Betty shook her head, keeping her eyes on her shoes. “No,”

 

“Alcohol?”

 

“Yeah,”

 

Veronica set down the clipboard and turned to her, obviously interested. “Does Jughead know about this?”

 

Even hearing his name made her heart pang. “Yeah, V. We do… did... it together,”

“Okay, you’re gonna hate me for this, but are you sexually active?”

 

Betty shot her a look, one half death glare and one half you already know the answer, and Veronica crossed off the box. She looked back up at her as Betty mentally prepared herself for the next question.

 

“Last instance of sexual activity?” Veronica shifted in her seat, excited for Betty’s answer.

 

“Um,” She began, mumbling so that no one could hear her. “Like, six hours ago?” 

 

Veronica crossed off the box, her mouth opening in faux disbelief. “Was it good?” She asked simply.

 

“Jesus, Ronnie. Couldn’t deliver it any louder or harsher? I just broke up with him, remember!”

 

At her best friends words, Veronica sunk back into her seat, feeding the rest of the questions to Betty, not making any stray remarks out of fear that she would get her hand bitten off. Veronica strutted up to the check in counter again, sliding the clipboard onto the surface. She flashed a fake smile, turning back around and going to sit back with Betty. A few minutes later, a frazzled doctor came out, her hair wisping away from her face and standing straight up. “Elizabeth Cooper?” she called into the room, Veronica jolting up and pulling Betty with her. 

 

“That’s me,” Betty called out meekly, her nerves ablaze as waves of fear rippled over her body. The nurse called her back, disappearing into a long hallway. Betty nervously shuffling her feet in contrast to Veronica’s long, confident strides. Veronica tugged on her arm, letting her know to hurry up. Betty swallowed the ball in her throat, trying to push the fear down. 

 

They followed the doctor down a long corridor, turning into a room with giraffes plastered onto the walls. “I’m sorry,” the doctor chuckled, “Given the short notice, this was the only room we could pull together. But that’s okay, right?” 

 

Betty paused for a moment, her eyes widening as fear struck her once again the moment the smell of a hospital seeped into her. “Um, it-“ she began before being cut off by her best friend

 

“Will suffice,” 

 

The doctor smiled earnestly, the lines by her eyes crinkling. Betty trusted her, she thought. She had wrinkles, and only people who smile have wrinkles. “I’m Dr. McCoy and I will be taking care of you today,” She turned back around from where she had plugged her laptop in, looking at Veronica with a trying look in her eyes.

 

“Say, are you Hiram and Hermione’s daughter?” She asked kindly, a warm expression spreading over her face.

 

“Yeah, I thought you looked familiar. I think we had a conversation at the christmas party?” 

 

She nodded, her low ponytail bobbing a little. “Yeah, you were very intelligent and well spoken. But anyway, back to what you are actually here for, what seems to be the problem?”

 

“Sei… seizures Mamn. I’ve had two today and this one right here thinks it’s the end of the w… world.” She said, her voice still low and timid as she tried to picture herself somewhere besides the doctor.

 

“Interesting, I see. Are you two together?”

 

Betty and Veronica shared a quick glance, before synchronically saying “no.” 

 

“Okay, so anyway, Betty, when did these seizures start?” she asked, looking up from her clipboard, her hand still idle with her pen.

 

Betty thought back for a minute to the first one. She was at school, in the Blue and Gold with just Jughead, and he had no idea what to do. Even thinking about it, how he held her tight crying while it passed, just thinking about him made the lump in her throat reappear. “Um, last year. Like, May of last year,”

 

Doctor McCoy looked back down, scrawling something onto her clipboard. Betty was shaking, still nervous.

 

She asked a few more questions, before she looked everything over. “Okay, so we are going to schedule an MRI to make sure everything is working properly, but until them, we are going to put you on a medication to stop them, is that okay with you?” 

 

Betty nodded, as she turned around the laptop. She saw everything in tiny print, squinting to see it. There were a few side effects, which she tried to ignore. She nodded.

 

“Okay, then I will send the prescription over to the Riverdale Pharmacy and you can collect it there, sound good?”

 

Betty nodded again. “Thank you,” She was able to force out quietly.

 

Betty and Veronica left the room, and went to pick up her prescription. 

 

***

 

Jughead unlocked the door, slid off his shoes, and threw his messenger bag to the floor. He was exhausted. He had gotten what felt like close to 70 assignments that day alone. He pulled out his phone, opening Jellybean’s contact. He always felt better when he talked to her.

 

She picked up after a few rings, sounding as bright and bubbly as ever. “What’s up, Jug?” 

 

“I went to school for the first time in three weeks and I am so stressed,”

 

Her tone narrow suspiciously. “Why weren’t you at school?”

 

He sat up, resting against the back of the couch. “Calm down. I was with Betty. I’m sure you’ve… heard,”

 

Her voice lit up at the mention of the blonde’s name, disregarding the second part. She loved Betty, and had missed her quite a bit since her visit to Toledo. “Is she there? Can I talk to her?”

 

“Well, that’s what I was getting to. Betty and I broke up,” He sighed into the monitor, heaving off of the couch and strolling into the kitchen. It stung his mouth and burnt his throat to say it out loud like that. He opened the fridge, grabbing one of her father’s beers from the back. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice it was missing. He either never had or just never said anything while Jughead was around.

 

“What, why?” She asked, basically screaming into the monitor. 

 

He sighed, putting the phone down onto the granite and firmly hitting the speaker button, tempted to hang up on her. Of the things he wanted to talk about, Betty or his breakup with Betty wasn’t on that list. “I exploded on her, and I tried to apologize but she said that we needed to spend some time apart. But I don’t really want to talk about it. Can we just move on?”

 

“Well what did she say?” She asked as he popped open the top. She could hear it somehow, and asked “Are you drinking?”

 

“No,” he lied. “Listen, Jelly, I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” 

 

“Fine,” She said, although her tone implied she thought otherwise.

 

“This might seem kinda random, but do you think Mom would mind if I visited?” He asked, taking a swig. The bitter taste stung his throat. He wasn’t quite assimilated to the taste yet, but he figured he’d get used to it over time. 

 

“Of course not! She always talks about how much she misses you, so it should be fine. Ugh, I just can’t wait to see you!” She squealed. 

 

He took another swig. “Okay, well then I’ll come tomorrow, okay?” 

 

“Okay! See you tomorrow!”

 

“Bye,”

 

She just hung up. He thought it was weird, but returned to his beer. 

 

***

 

Cheryl Blossom walked into the big warehouse at the edge of the south woods, infamously known amongst the kids of Riverdale as the Ghoulies workshop. Normally, people do anything they could to avoid it, but today, Cheryl was strutting right towards it. She got up to the edge of the opening garage-style door, knocking impatiently three times. 

 

She heard a deep voice from inside. “Go around the back!”

 

She walked along the perimeter until she found a smaller door. This time she didn’t knock, she just walked in as she normally did whenever a room appeared to be lacking her dynamic presence. As soon as the first click of her heel echoed against the unfinished concrete floor, every head turned to look at her.

 

“What is the Northsider doing here?” A man called out, Cheryl utterly ignoring him.

 

She looked around, scanning the warehouse-turned-bar. “I’m looking for a Sweetpea?” 

 

“What do you want?” A tall man from the back of the bar called out. 

 

She smiled curtly, cocking her head slightly. “Can you see me outside, please? I have a proposal and I think you would be interested,”

 

He shifted into a walk, slowly making his way towards her. Cheryl saw that as a sign he was coming, and turned around, strutting out of the door. He finally reached her after what seemed like forever, slowly closing the door behind him.

 

“So what do you know about Jughead Jones?” She questioned, raising one red brow and getting straight to the point. 

 

“Oh, I know a lot about Jughead Jones. Almost everything. He was one of us, a Southsider. And then he got that skank Betty Cooper, and now he runs around, pretending to be perfect with is Northside buddies. So, I called him out on his bullshit and he kicked me out of the Serpents,”

 

Cheryl readjusted, crossing her arms. “Well, I see you have a bit of a grudge. That’s kind of convenient, actually, because I just so happen to have one of those against Betty Cooper. So I was wondering if we could team up, kill two birds with one stone? Well, let me rephrase. Hopefully one bird with one stone, and then the other kills themselves for us,”

 

Sweetpea looked up, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “I don’t follow,”

 

“Of course you don’t.” Cheryl said, rolling her eyes. “So you and me team up. I want you to steal a car, and then run him off the road. I may or may not have intercepted a phone call that he will be on his way to Ohio tomorrow. Hit and run. Then he’s over,”

 

He smiled wickedly, seeing the evil that registered in her eyes. “Okay, tomorrow then. What time?” 

 

Cheryl frowned. “That I don’t necessarily know, but I suggest you send one of your younger, entry level gang members, if that’s how this works… to go survey the house. When he leaves, we leave,”

 

“Are you sure this is going to work?” He asked. 

 

“Oh, it will. And I will be sure of it,”

 

***

 

Betty rolled over, her phone ringing loudly next to her. She looked at her clock across the darkened room to see that it was 3:37 in the morning. Returning her gaze to her phone, she flipped it over, seeing Jellybean’s face light up the screen. “That’s odd,” she thought to herself. Jughead had given them each other’s numbers seeing as his mom was always busy, and Betty was also a teen girl with a few years more experience, she used it as a help hotline from time to time, but her strategic calls (mostly about boys) had fizzled out recently. 

 

She thought it was especially weird that she was calling her now, given her and Jughead’s current state. He had to have told her, right? Nevertheless, she picked up the phone and hit accept call.

“Betty, are you sitting down?” She asked, a worried tone edging her voice.

**Author's Note:**

> See you guys when I do ;)
> 
> Ig: rreinhurts  
> Tumblr: lordofperogis  
> Twitter: rreinhurts


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